


drama troll snuggles

by kbokbok



Series: Hella Dave [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Past Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbokbok/pseuds/kbokbok
Summary: Hella Dave is running from his problems when a mysterious stranger in the woods tries to smuggle this random human into a quadrant. Or course it's Eridan, but not that one.
Relationships: Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider/Beforus Eridan Ampora
Series: Hella Dave [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/603787
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	drama troll snuggles

**Author's Note:**

> This is terrible and it makes no sense! Anyone with enough contact to Karkat to realize him and Dave are secretly dating would've had quadrants explained to him by said troll at least three times over! But I keep rereading and editing it instead of working on how the Lalonde Interaction goes, so maybe publishing it will make me stop.

The first time went something like this: you could feel the inertia slipping into your bones. There was an urge to find some hide-away with approximately eleventy gallons of apple juice and eleventy-one of rum so you can mentally playback every misstep of the last sixty years, no tapes necessary, montage that shit til you pass out. But you couldn’t do that anymore. Not with this new life. Instead you had this.

You were running, flashstepping, because sometimes exhaustion helps and you had just made lil Dave flinch (on-purpose, not-on-purpose because you know intellectually that flashstepping during an argument was one of the Things you can’t do around him or Dove, you know, _but_ —) and Rose rounded on you with actual anger in her face. Pissed like maybe she was done with you fucking up. So you were both running away, trying to exhaust yourself, and adding time to a Lalonde’s anger like it wasn’t their gasoline. Multitasking like a motherfucker.

You’d succeeded in getting your tank to about 97% empty, mumbling all the while( “looks like I’m sleeping rough tonight, literally can’t get home, couldn’t have gone better if I planned that myself, _or did I_ ”) when you misjudged and crashed into a tree. Just young enough to be springy, it did the bend-n-snap and tossed you straight into its big brother, a mighty oak (maybe? big tree, anyways) that gives no shits.

You were laid out, cursing as much as your heaving lungs will allow (because OFC that caught you wrong and knocked the breath out of you). You had just barely gotten to the point of self-assessment where you checked that your shades were intact when you heard him.

“That wwas hands-dowwn the funniest shit I’vve seen since this respawn malarkey.” Some troll with a speech impediment told you seriously. “Somebody chasin’ you?”

First thought: mid-sized troll, mid-sized threat level. You contemplated spinning some shit about inner demons, working the alien up in a hyper-literal froth, but naw. “Naw.” Your noodly legs cooperated (hey, no broken bones!) so far as to get you leaning against a tree.

“You’re one o’ the Derse humans.” Not a full-grown clown, but not exactly one of the catty trolls, either. The fishy kind, but not the Batterwitch’s type. Tricky.

You pointed an accusatory finger. “You quit it with the hip lingo. I know that one’s not even trollish.”

“Uh-huh. WWhat are you do-in’?” He crossed his arms as he peered down at you.

‘ _Holy hell am I glad this guy doesn’t seem strife-y.’_ Medium on a troll was extra large on a human, and those _teeth_. “Getting in my calisthenics.” You arranged yourself more casually against the tree holding you up and fell straight the fuck over. ‘ _Goddamn prat falls. What is this, a romantic comedy?_ ’

“Uh-huh.” He meandered over to stare at you, where you were trying to ironically fold your arms under your head. There was no real hope he was going to fall for it, but some air of badassery needed to be upheld while your Stranger Danger alarms are going off. Little did you know. “And noww?”

“Stargazing.”

He looked up at the thick canopy, then back down. The fish troll sighed, pulling his mouth to one side. “WWell, let’s get you home.” He knelt down and reached for you. He even had the nerve to look surprised when you tap into the last 3% to slice the tips off four of his talons in one swipe.

“Bro, what the fuck.” You were doing your best to keep your breathing under control, not show any more weakness than you had to, but you were actually a little dizzy.

“No, you wwhat the fuck,” he asked from a more reasonable distance, examining his blunted nails.

“Listen, you don’t interrupt a bro’s stargazing. Skedaddle.”

He gave you this absolutely fantastic dumb-founded look, then burst out, “Yeah, once you can prove to me you wwon’t drown if it rains, you _absolute wwreck_.”

Today, you understand this to be classic pale-flirting on his part, but that’s only with the benefit of hindsight. And a few lectures from one of the bearable shouty trolls. Alternians would even call the first offer of hauling your ass back to civilization “pale as hoofbeast lactate” but the Beforan trolls differ on the exact line between civic duty, courtesy, and pale solicitation. However you slice it, calling someone a mess, a shitshow, or yes a _wwreck_ is basically diamond-making 101.

But you didn’t know that then, at the start. Instead you dealt with the facts in front of you, which is a pushy busybody who won’t leave you alone—to yes maybe drown if it rains like you’re a bitch ass turkey, but what’s the skin off his ass? So you started laying down boundaries. “I’m not going home.” Nailed it.

“…an’ wwhy not?”

You don’t know what made you say it. Definitely not the serenbipity-bopity-bullshit some trolls go on about. Maybe you were just tired enough. Maybe you were thinking that this was the 20th time you had set off a younger you (AKA your kid’s brother. It’s easier on everyone if you define him through his relationship to Dirk or Roxy or even shouty, strange little Karkat, rather than through yourself. Dirk’s brother is a kid. Roxy’s cousin who calls her Mom is a kid. The smallest shouty troll’s secret boyfriend is a kid. You can’t shake the feeling that you yourself were never a kid, not like that.) and you weren’t getting better, it was happening more often, you were so angry that neither of you were getting better—… Maybe you recognized that something had to change and it had to be you. So you said, “I got into a fight and crossed a line with—a few people, by now, and it was shitty of me, but I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with them and me at the same time.” You wouldn’t get any awards in the regular Olympics, but in the Strider Games that would have you bringing home the gold in inviting a feelings jam.

“…you wwanna come back to mine?” It worked pretty well in the Trollympics too.

You snorfled, thinking it sounded like an innuendo, but obviously couldn’t be. “You sure.”

“Yeah. C’mon.”

The katana didn’t come out this time as he hoisted you into his arms. For all he’s only a foot taller than you, he always gives the sense that your weight is nothing to him. He had you in a weird hold: you were looking over his shoulder, diagonal across his torso, then your thighs were kind of in a football cradle by his hip, his other hand pressing into the middle of your back. Your arms were free, and so were your legs, mostly. That was the moment it suddenly felt so intimate that you were struck dumb. You still haven’t seen anybody carry somebody else just that way, but you suspect it was another pale signal that flew over your head.

He took off at an easy pace. “I’m Mapmaker, but call me Eridan.” He walked, breathed. Let you breathe. “I’m out because my descendant an’ my clone couldn’t be more cringe-wworthy. They both just go moanin’ on about their qu-adrants, all the time, an’ the scheming. Oh my glub. Evven wwhen my copy isn’t tryin’ to wwedge himself into some-one’s spade or their heart, he just—keeps plannin’ friendship ovvertures like a military campaign an’ comes home pissy because it doesn’t wwork. Just, jegus glub, howw it doesn’t wwork.”

“Eridan. That’s the little troll with the cape and the magic wands?”

“So you’vve met him.”

“He’s not awful, put in context. Kind of entertaining when he’s not so nervous he can’t get a word out or just spits whatever he thinks will get him out of whatever he’s gotten into.”

“Hmph. He just—it’s so embarrassin’ to wwatch.”

“I know how that goes. My copy, lil Dave, is instantly arrogant and insecure. And it’s worse, cuz I remember making those same mistakes, the same poses.”

“Yeah.” His hand moved on your back, rubbing. “It’s like a wwalkin’ talkin’ reminder o’ the stupidest years o’ your life.”

“Yeah.” You sighed, letting the silence stretch. Eridan had a good, solid stride. You wanted to think about how easy it would be to teach him to flashstep, if he didn’t already know, but your mind was determined to follow this path down. “Hey, did anyone give you the run down on humans? The guy-girl, no homo stuff?”

“It…hasn’t come up?”

“Well, gotta give you context. When I was doing my growing up, a guy could get killed if the wrong people found out he slept with guys. Where I was, a lot of people were the wrong people. It got better, people got less anal, and my clone grew up when it was more or less okay. Could still get you beat up, shunned, maybe kids still getting kicked out of their houses, shit like that.” You slung an arm over his shoulder, hitch yourself up so your chin was in his collarbone. “Which is why he keeps his boyfriend a secret. The tiny shouty one, Karkat.” You sighed. “He’s really bad at keeping secrets.”

“So he’s afraid you’re goin’ to kill him if you find out?”

“Something like that. And I get it, kinda.” You wondered, but not long. You were tired. Tired from running and tired from chasing yourself around in your brain all night. “How good are you at keeping secrets?”

He squeezed you. “The best.”

“When I was his age, I was selling my ass for rent money. And food money. And—you get the idea.” You had laughed and you had waited for him to laugh with you. He didn’t. “That why it’s ironic. I’ve slept with so many more men than he has, and he thinks I’m going to roll him for having a boyfriend. Ha.”

Eridan traced a pattern on the back of your neck with one finger. “That’s real young.”

You stiffened as much as you could. ‘ _He better not pity me._ ’

“Shoosh, no, I’m just sayin’ it must havve been hard back then. You were takin’ a big risk, if people might’vve killed you.”

You grunted. “I could take care of myself. And I could keep a secret, unlike my copy. It’s just—what the fuck does he have to worry about. Even if I was a gay basher, so what. He’s got places to run off to, if he doesn’t think he can take me. Hell, he’s got people who could run _me_ off if it needed doing. And he’s so chickenshit—it’s.“

Eridan hummed—kind of. A troll hum, sort of clicky and full of bass but nice. It kept up when he spoke. “Alternian grubs are all so scared of adults, but my copy isn’t scared of me. It wwould be hard to be treated like a monster in disguise by my younger self.”

“Yeah, he keeps flinching but he trained himself out of the startle reflex I—sorry about your nails, bro. So he doesn’t do anything useful with the flinch. It’s saved my life before, being ready for anything.”

“Do you think he still needs it?”

“…”

“Dave?”

“If he was right to be scared of me, he would need it. But he’s not. And he’s not going to know that until I tell him.”

“You don’t gotta bare your whole soul. That's a big ask. Just let him know you’re not ‘the wrong people.’” Eridan stepped from vegetation to pavement, meaning you were getting closer to civilization.

You were at about 2%, but that doesn’t mean anything to rule of cool and also not looking like the wrong kind of spectacle. “Hey, lemme down. I can walk from here.”

“WWe’re like five steps from my hive, don’t be a wwiggler. The kids livve wway on the other side.” By the time Eridan was finished talking, he was opening the door. Not worth the fight.

“What about the other one?”

“Du-alscar? He’s been holin’ up at his matesprit’s. Hasn’t been back since respawn.” Eridan lingered just inside like he didn’t know where to put you down.

“His matesprit?” You hoped this one was a troll word, not another Game word.

“Uhhh, the rainbow drinker from his session, Portress’s dancestor.” He seemed to steel himself to a course of action, winding his way through the dark house. “I’m not real convvinced it’s gonna last. Apparently he got her killed last go round an’ you gotta imagine that ends badly.”

“Eh, it’s harder to give a shit about all that when none of it matters anymore. But, no, really, matesprit?”

“Uhh, yes? Hold on, I gotta—“ He pulled the hand away from your back to mess with something, another door probably. You hitched yourself up again, arms around his neck. In the darkness, you could see his speckles of bioluminescence like your freckles in reverse. Eridan slid whatever it is open, and you were in a library. And then you were set down on a not-too-comfy pile of detritus, just flotsam and jetsam all over the place.

Huh. Looking at Eridan’s face for the first time in awhile was…he wasn’t chill, no, he was looking at you like there was a question in front of you waiting to be answered. “What’s up?”

“Do you, wwell, can I…?” And he gestured expressively enough that you got what he was asking for was permission to join you on this heap of junk.

“…sure, yeah. Why not.” What’s the worst that could happen? Been there, done that.

He beamed at you, so happy it made you smile back as he arranged himself all curled towards you, one hand nearly touching your face as you turned over to mirror him like a couple a kids in a slumber party. It was the hand you’d de-clawed, and your eyes caught on the unevenness, the splintered edges. It was slightly better than looking into Eridan’s eyes with all the feeling that there’s context you’re missing, and that you were going to hurt him by sheer accident. Another victim to Dave Strider having no idea what the fuck he’s doing.

You snagged that hand between both of your own, polishing off the splinters bit by bit. To do any better, you think you’d need a power sander, no emery board gonna make a dent in this solid keratin. Either way, he’s got that rumble started up again. ‘ _That just might be a purr.’_ “Eridan? What are we doing?”

The fins on the side of his head flipped back flush to his skull like a scolded dog, but with fins. “Do wwe gotta put expectations on it? I’m not askin’ you to be my moirail,” there’s a note of wheedling in that that rang a sour note, compounded by his continuing with, “I can be chill, swwear. WWe can just see howw it goes.”

“Sh.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly, reached out with your spare hand to cup his shoulder. How can you phrase this without crushing somebody’s hopes and dreams underfoot like a giant just down off his beanstalk. “I’m not saying that can’t happen, but that might be because I’ve got no flipping clue what a moirel is.”

Eridan tried to scoot back out of the pile, only stopping when a book thumped into your kidney from being dragged after him. “Hsst. You alright? WWhat do you mean? Don’t humans have moirallegiance?” He rearranged the tome flat side down, incidentally smoothing your waist which he seemed shy of—which. No, come back, that was nice.

“Maybe? If we do, we don’t call it that. I’m thinking we don’t have it though, given well.” You could only hope that your gestures were as expressive as Eridan’s. “Just, tell me what it is? Cuz so far this shit ain’t bad.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Do humans have romantic relationships?”

“Sure.”

“Howw many at o-nce?”

“Uhh, just the one. Unless there’s like cheating or sister wives, but, uh, yeah those are outliers adn should not be counted.”

“Okay, trolls havve four kinds. Two wwhere you combine genetic material, two wwhere you don’t. Moirailegence is o-ne o’ the latter. It’s wwhen…you comfort someone and let yourself be comforted.” Eridan nodded to himself, tentatively satisfied with his own explanation. He refocused his eyes on you. “An’ that’s physical an’ not, y’knoww? A person could be perched on a cloud, wwell-fed, wwell-rested an’ feelin’ no comfort if he’s got worries on his mind.”

“So you wanna lay your worries down at my feet?”

The hopeful troll made a sound like he’d been punched in the gut.

‘ _Kind of_ ,’ you thought, intrigued with any button you could push. ‘ _Like someone said something really dirty out of the wide blue yonder._ ’

But instead of falling to what you were just about to declare your infallible moirel seduction, he was shaking his head. Drawing closer, but—“Not just my wworries, though. And givven that you just about ran your legs off tonight, I’d say you got some to lay out.”

You scoffed. “I just need to act like goddamn adult already. Especially around my double.”

“You really hate him, don’t you?” Eridan pet your shoulder, eyes drilling into your face. The only illumination in the room were the bright freckles scattered across his skin.

“Another secret?” You traced the knobs on his wrist, the lines of tendons. “I was…I could take care of myself, at his age. But no one else. Living the way I was, I’d run into people who had it worse all the time. People on their final character arc. I couldn’t get outside myself, my goals and my ideas, to see it. Cuz that’s the thing. I could’ve, I think. Helped. And this kid can’t even take care of _himself_.” You were glad for your shades hiding the moisture in your eyes.

“Shoosh.” He thumbed your jaw, back and forth, hypnotic. “You said, you said he’s got people who could run you off? He’s not alone like you were. He’s not...you. And you're not alone either.”

And maybe it was because you were finally at 1%, maybe it was a dam needed breaking, but you burst into some godawful sobs that you still find embarrassing. You burrowed into his shoulder because—you needed, just for a minute to hide, just—you clamped your arms around him because you couldn't risk--

Eridan wasn’t prying you off. You didn’t need to panic like that. Your drama troll was cooing at you, murmuring the palest sweet nothings he could muster, petting up and down your back and through you hair.

Then you passed out. Go you, 10/10 escape from emotional vulnerability.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed this at all, may I recommend two much better fics? 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/477779  
> Lee Shore by JumpingJackFlash 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5779486  
> Diamonds for Princes by LaughingStones


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